


Broken Edges

by paperfeathers



Series: Safety in Numbers [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fix-it fic, Hurt/Comfort, I NEEDED SOMETHING TO HELP FIX THE HOLE LEFT BY THE LAST EP, M/M, Spoilers for 9.10, ok?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-15
Updated: 2014-01-15
Packaged: 2018-01-08 20:58:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1137324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperfeathers/pseuds/paperfeathers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Where Lucifer reaches Sam just after he expels Gadreel. Here is the aftermath.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Broken Edges

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Angst, hurt/comfort, ptsd brought on by possession. Lordy, we Samifer fans need something to help heal the hole left by that last episode. Spoilers for 9.10.

“It’s ugly, I know.” Exhaustion roughens Sam’s voice, has him sagging limply against the pillows of his bed. But sleep won’t come, not with the lingering echoes of Gadreel’s violation and Dean’s betrayal. Not with the memory of Kevin’s death branded behind his eyelids.

Lucifer says nothing, but Sam can feel his eyes on him, steady and watchful through the gloom. The archangel’s sitting cross-legged beside him on the bed, hand hovering just above the spot where Sam’s anti-possession tattoo used to be. Castiel had healed the skin immediately after burning it away, but it had scarred over all the same. The warped patch of skin an eternal reminder of what Dean had done to him.

Lucifer’s presence is a dark, heavy weight in the room, a terrifying mass of concentrated fury and fierce protectiveness. It should scare Sam, just as much as Lucifer himself did. But the bone-deep weariness has left him incapable of feeling anything but numbness. And rather than flinching away, he finds himself curling into it, against the shadow of Lucifer’s broken wings. Neither he nor Michael had escaped the Cage unscathed after the Fall, and while the vessel he currently inhabits looks the same as his old one, there’s a very subtle weight to him that hadn’t been there before.

“I wish I had found you first.” Lucifer says quietly. In spite of everything Sam manages to laugh at that. “Find me? So you could get the Apocalypse rolling again? No thanks.” Lucifer flinches, but Sam ignores him. Anger rising. At Dean, for putting him through this. At Gadreel, for killing Kevin using his body. At Lucifer, for his role (no matter how indirect) in starting all this. “All of this leads back to you,” Sam spits out, and if pissing off an archangel is a sure death wish then so be it. The atmosphere in the room darkens. Lucifer’s spine rigid with tension. But gradually, as if fighting an internal battle that would leave everything bloody no matter what part of him won, he wills himself to relax. The pressure in the room lifts, and when Sam turns his head to face the archangel, Lucifer’s expression is as unreadable as ever.

“If you want me to leave, I will.” Lucifer says it quietly, carefully. Sam feels him shift on the bed, feels the chill emanating from him fade. He should tell him he’s glad to see him go, to send him packing off. But the moment Lucifer pulls back the hand tracing patterns on the air above his chest Sam feels a sudden sharp ache of loss. Unthinking, he catches Lucifer’s hand, twining their fingers together almost automatically. He feels Lucifer’s stiff surprise, and his own, and part of him wonders if this time, he truly has gone mad.

Lucifer’s expression is shuttered, neutral. But he doesn’t let go, and as Sam continues to stare at him  almost helplessly, his grip tightens.

“Do you want me to stay?” All the world’s tenderness in that question. Lucifer’s expression doesn’t change, but deep in those ice-blue eyes Sam can see something soft and open, almost vulnerable. Grace thrumming beneath his borrowed skin, but unlike Gadreel’s it doesn’t burn him with its wrongness. Instead it sings to him, cresting at every point of contact. Part of Sam recoils in horror at the thought, _never again, never again_ a clear chant in his mind. But an even greater part of him craves it. The connection, the belonging, the sense of home he’d tasted four years ago and had never forgotten, in spite of all his efforts to stifle the memory. Before he quite knows what he’s doing he’s tugging the archangel closer. Hands shaking and greedy as they slip under Lucifer’s shirt and hold him tight, tighter than he ever thought himself capable of holding on to another person, tight enough to crush bones if Lucifer had been a man. But Lucifer is ancient starlight and longing, and as he shifts in Sam’s grip his touch remains gentle. Sam can feel Lucifer’s breath ghosting over his collarbones, his fingers tracing the edges of the scar, and he shivers. Buries his face in the archangel’s nest of blond hair, like a child trying to block out the rest of the world.

“Stay,” Sam whispers. His shoulders shake, and Lucifer’s arms tighten around him.

“I will,” quiet and hushed as a prayer. “I promise you, Sam. I’ll stay for as long as you need me.”

 

  


End file.
